Tornado
by KirishimaAyama
Summary: Tornado: a violent, dangerous, rotating column of air that is in contact with both the surface of the earth and a cumulonimbus cloud. A collection of 6918/MukuxHiba pieces. Fluff, character death, more...
1. Drops

**TORNADO - A collection of 6918 ficlets**

**Tornado: **a violent, dangerous, rotating column of air that is in contact with both the surface of the earth and a cumulonimbus cloud**.**

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Contents:**

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**1 – **Drops (Atmospheric elements) [_You are here_]

**2 – **Always (TYL69P18) (That's not the Mukuro he knows... yet, it is.)

**3 – **Harmony 1 (Old Scars) (Hibari doesn't want to go on a mission with Mukuro)

**4 – **Festival (AU) (Hibari and Mukuro meet at a festival)

**5 – **Memory (Character Death)

**6 – **Second Flight (Spoilers?) (TYL!Mukuro has just been 'released' from the Vendice but…)

**7 – **Identity (Everything is too ordinary somehow…)

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**Title:** Drops  
**Author:** KirishimaAyama  
**Warnings:** None  
**A/N:** First Published: 14/07/2010

Reviews and the like would be appreciated. :)

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**DROPS**

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Tiny droplets of water suspended by the air. When you consider it, what's the difference between clouds and mist apart from where they appear?

The mist swirls along the ground, drifting into unwanted areas, expanding with its vast reach. It creates a haze, so things are lost, hidden, masked from plain sight - yet it is beautiful, soft, alluring at the same instance. Creeping delicately across the ground, through the narrowest areas, softening the harsh colours of the unforgiving world.

Higher up, where the wind carries them hither, the clouds float, unconcerned for the most part, free and untethered to the ground like the rolling mists, forever confined and chained to only pass below on the earth, but the clouds cannot fall either. Once they pass that hidden barrier, they meld into each other - which is which?

The fluffy shapes of the clouds are misleading. Thick and impenetrable, they form a barrier to sight, masking everything in its entirely unless you can pass through it. It is unlike the clutching mists, where one finds no escape, the tiny droplets swirling about you easily, although you can always see the shortest distance ahead. The clouds are thicker, more blinding, unyielding to anything but force.

Mist swirls no matter how much you bat at it.

The quick forming clouds have their own beauty, but it is not soft as the mist, appearing to move slowly, lazily across the bright expanse of sky, yet they ripple in the air, forming, dispersing with such intensity.

The mist is slow to creep up, advancing unnoticed until it is too late. It is subtle and sly, slinking into the world gently, rarely, but at once, dominating in its vastness and subtle fierceness. Although the clouds cover the much vaster sky, it is still but limited to the confines of the atmosphere. It wanders where it will, yet - it is still restricted.

The mist curls up unnoticed, from anywhere.


	2. Always

**Title:** Always  
**Author:** KirishimaAyama  
**Pairing:** TYL!Mukuro x Present!Hibari  
**Warnings:** None

**A/N:** First Published: 15/07/2010

Reviews and so on are appreciated. :)

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**ALWAYS**

.

Your slight stature seemed small... delicate, even - although you would hit me for saying that. Your hair barely brushed my chin as I pull you close, the younger you. You are expressionless, but you don't pull away, standing there stiffly as though you barely care, but your fingers curl around mine intimately when I take your small hand in mine.

The older you would glare, and push me away, storming off with a cold look intended to dispel ice deep into people's veins. Ironically, it is a look I am accustomed to, and far from feeling the chips of ice which should numb me, the feeling is quite the opposite. I would smile at your retreating back, knowing that you know this too. It is as if we are in a show, both playing our parts, and we both know this well - even if you refuse to admit it.

The head of the younger you now rests gently against my chest, but your gaze remains the same as before, pondering, turned within. You know me, are touching me even when you frequently assert your dislike of touching. You are comfortable enough to stand this way with me, even when it is another you crave.

But he is not here.

He cannot join you in your world, trapped in his prison. Time is limited, even though it stretches to infinity for him. Alone in the darkness, don't you think he craves for you too?

I am not the me that you know, but, we are still one and the same. I can finally touch you with my physical self, not a mere illusion, a ghost of who I really am. Even as you are, and perhaps because of it, the feeling that you give me now remains the same as it ever was, if not stronger.

No matter how you look, how old you are, how you treat me...

I still love you.

Always and forever.


	3. Harmony 1: Old Scars

**Title:** Harmony

**Chapter:** 1 - Old Scars

**Author:** KirishimaAyama

**Pairing:** TYL 6918  
**Warnings:** None  
**A/N:** First Published: 16/07/2010

Reviews and so on are appreciated. :)

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**HARMONY I – OLD SCARS**

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"Why must I work with him?"

Tsuna backed away slightly from the furious face of his strongest guardian, hands raised in a futile attempt to dispel some sort of calm. One of Hibari's tonfas had struck the dark, heavy wood of Tsuna's finely carved desk, leaving a deep gash permanently embedded in the antique. Tsuna knew better than to tell him off about destroying such an expensive table, and so merely moved back to their dispute, changing tactics to logic he knew Hibari would not be able to refuse - or so he hoped.

"You know as well as I do that we are short on manpower, Hibari-san." Tsuna implored. "So please-"

"I'm capable of completing the mission alone." Hibari replied shortly, flicking a contemptuous glare over his shoulder at the smiling, amused man who stood silently in the corner, content to watch for now.

"You _also_ know that it is protocol for a mission to not be completed by one person," Tsuna argued on doggedly. "There must always be a supporting partner."

"I'll take Kusakabe, then" Hibari retorted, once more relaxedly sliding his tonfas back into hiding, although all present knew how fast he could snap them out again if he was required to.

"This is a high risk operation. Kusakabe-san does not have the skills we need." Tsuna pointed out.

Hibari glared. While Kusakabe made a good assistant, it was true he was not quite as suited to their field missions. And there was no one else Hibari was willing to put up with - if they were even available. There was no escaping it, was there?

"Kufufu." The man in the corner finally spoke. "What are you afraid of, Kyoya?"

"I don't remember ever saying that." Hibari replied coldly, a hint of a threat in his voice as his eyes narrowed at the speaker, glaring daggers.

"It is not only the mouth that speaks." Mukuro smirked, the mismatched eyes faintly teasing.

In an instant, Hibari was across the room, the cold, hard steel of a tonfa at the base of the throat of the taller man. If he pressed a little harder, he could cut off Mukuro's breathing. Even harder, break his neck.

"Don't get cocky, Mukuro."

But Mukuro was unmoved, his breathing even and slow, the lips smiling wider as though he were enjoying himself. Bending his head, he kissed the shiny, polished steel of the tonfas, to Hibari's annoyance.

"Do your worst." He murmured to the skylark.

Over at his newly scarred desk, Tsuna sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Were those two ever going to even get to that mission? Giving the two half a glance, he assumed the issue was resolved, and quietly slipped out of the room.


	4. Festival

**Title:** Festival (AU)

**Pairing:** Young 6918  
**Author:** KirishimaAyama  
**Warnings:** None  
**A/N:** First Published: 24/07/2010

Reviews and so on are appreciated. :)

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**FESTIVAL**

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It was festival time, and the lanterns glowed brightly in the darkness, illuminating the night sky ineffectively, but valiantly. A young Japanese boy trotted along, kitted out in suitable festival-going clothing and clutching a goldfish in a bag of water which swam around, blowing bubbles. He did so like animals, although he didn't quite seem the type. His wooden _geta_ clattered on the ground as he continued on his way, his change rattling happily in his pocket as he wondered which stall he wanted to visit next. Down at this part of the festival, it was quieter, and there were less people.

That was the type of atmosphere he liked. He had almost suffocated at the main fair. There were too many people. Crowds.

Crowding...

A slight blur of motion caught his eye and he stopped, peering into the darkness, before deciding to follow. Wandering from the festival a short distance - far enough for the amount of light to dim, but still allow them to hear the festival music - the young Japanese boy saw another child kneeling on the grass. He was kitted out in a black _hakama_ and blue _haori_ but there was an air about him that didn't quite seem Japanese. The Japanese boy walked closer.

The foreign boy turned as he heard the clatter of the Japanese boy's wooden _geta_ on the gravel. His hair was dark, but not black. A red eye peeked out at him from under the long fringe, like the eye of a devil, and his smile was mischievous, but his expression showed no ill-will.

"_Konnichiwa._" The foreign boy greeted the Japanese boy quietly.

The Japanese boy blinked once, and boldly walked over and dropped down next to the foreign boy.

"You don't look Japanese." The Japanese boy said, bluntly and to the point in Japanese.

"I'm not." The foreign boy smiled in amusement. "I'm Italian."

"I see." The Japanese boy replied with a slight nod.

There was a silence as they sat amiably.

"I'm Hibari. Who're you?"

"Mukuro." The foreign boy smiled. "Nice to meet you."


	5. Memory

**Title:** Memory  
**Author:** KirishimaAyama  
**Pairing:** TYL 6918  
**Warnings:** Character Death  
**A/N: **First Published: 31/07/2010

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**MEMORY  
**.

Tears fall like the many drops of rain.

But it's alright, because no one notices.

The salty tears mingle with the freezing precipitation, numbing his body of feeling as he stood with his face upturned, the drops stinging his face. That's alright, he doesn't want to feel anymore. He never wanted to feel anyway.

What good ever came out of it?

The usually cold metal is freezing against his skin, and he drops them onto the ground without a second thought. He didn't care anymore. What use were they, those weapons? They had not been able to save him. A failure. He did not tolerate those.

What was with this pain?

Eyes closed as he is thoroughly drenched, the hot tears squeeze their way out uncontrollably, even as his face remains impassive, not betraying any of the inner turmoil or the hard knot in his throat that just won't go away. He swallows, but that only lodges it harder.

Why does he feel like this?

A face appears in his mind's eye. A snapshot of the single moment before the casket was closed on the body, lying pale and still. The clothes were neat, hair skillfully arranged and shiny despite the long immersion, the face smooth and peaceful. His chest aches, even though he hasn't seen the man in years. Only in his dreams.

When did he start feeling like this?

He reaches out with one pale, cold hand, reaching out to the figure he can see. In his mind's eye he sees the face smile familiarly, alive with life, as he remembers so well. He doesn't know how, but he remembers.

Where are you?

Where have you gone?

He takes a step forward blindly, and almost slips in the slick mud the rain has created. His eyes fly open as he catches his balance instinctively and the beautiful, still face is gone.

He closes his eyes again desperately, but the image does not return.

It has faded forever.

_  
The idea is that Hibari and Mukuro have only ever met in their dreams but they still love each other. ... No direct names or features were mentioned though. :| I made it really really ambiguous - is the characterisation even right? D: Also, the reason Mukuro is dead, the idea has been long long brewing from one of LuiseMeyrink's fics, but I could never figure out how to write it.  
I also tried to write a piece before where they met in their dreams. Sadly it was an unmitigated failure, but I hope this conveys more the sort of feelings I wanted in the other.


	6. Second Flight

**Second Flight**  
Spoiler Alert

TYL;6918;  
Fail!Analogy;TitleFromSongTitle  
First Published sometime 11/08/2010-16/08/2010

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**Second Flight**

.

Mukuro's fingers were quick at work on the small slips of paper.

"So." He said softly.

"What." Hibari asked bluntly, peering at the bedridden man from over the edge of the clipboard in his hands, dark eyes wary and hooded, secretive.

The pineapple-haired man merely smiled wordlessly, with a hint of his old signature smirk present as he put the last finishing touches to his creation and unfolded the wings.

"There." He raised the small figure to the light.

Hibari made no response though his eyebrows inched together slightly and he reluctantly walked over from his perch against a cabinet and sat on the edge of the invalid's bed, apparently still engrossed in reading the recordings on the clipboard with an academic air.

"Do you think I'll ever fly again?" Mukuro murmured softly, the crane still held to the light.

Hibari lowered the clipboard fractionally and glanced at the other man as though in question.

Mukuro's smile was slightly bitter, slightly wistful as he covered his right eye with a hand.

"This feeling of weakness does not leave."

Hibari closed his eyes and turned his back again. When he spoke, his voice was as controlled and even as always. "That's only to be expected. You only just broke free of that water prison."

Mukuro shifted on the bed and turned away from the striking figure the other man made in his light grey suit as he placed the fragile paper crane gently on the table and leaned back against the pillows, turned on his side.

"That's true."

But he said no more.

Hibari opened his eyes and lowered the clipboard with an air of finality. Pushing off the bed, he stalked to the end of it, where he hung the clipboard back in its place and rounded the other side of the bed with purpose.

The Italian blinked his (recently acquired) pair of dark blue eyes at the skylark's furious appearance before the fist connected with his left cheek. But it was tightly reined back, restrained.

Hibari's fist remained in the air as Mukuro straightened, his cheek stinging from the impact, but not flaming - or unconscious - as he would have been if Hibari had truly put his strength into the blow.

"Stop with the self pity. I detest it." Hibari muttered as he glared back over his shoulder, lowering his fist slowly. His gaze then flicked over to the window, hiding his eyes from the earnestly searching blue gaze of the other. "That was a warning. Once more and I will bite you to death."

Mukuro blinked slowly, the old smile now flooding back onto his face full force and he chuckled slightly.

"I understand. I'll do my best."


	7. Identity

**Title:** Identity  
**Author:** KirishimaAyama  
**Pairing:** Present 6918  
**Warnings:** None  
**A/N: **First Published 02/09/2010

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**Identity**  
6918;

Another day, another passing of the sun across the sky. The days seem mundane almost. Nothing seemed to happen anymore, and life had gone back into its usual rhythm. But somehow even beating up the rule-breakers in the school wasn't enough anymore.

What was with this absolute _boredom_?

Hibari stood at his vantage point from one of the many odd structures on the roof of the school. He didn't really know what they did, and it really had no bearing on him, so it seemed pointless to bother. At any rate, he knew if he asked Tetsu he could probably get an answer within the hour and that was good enough for him.

He blinked down now at the courtyard, taking note of the troublesome students that tried to sully _his_ Namimori. Takahashi Sakura from Class 2-C swept some rubbish under a seat near the sporting oval instead of walking ten metres to the bin, Kazuya Akiyoshi from class 3-A cracked a window on the second floor as his basketball flew a little higher than he'd intended. Hibari would deal with those misfits later.

A sharp pain suddenly gripped his head and he staggered backwards from the edge and closed his eyes against the onslaught of it, pressing the heel of one hand to his forehead, frowning through the harsh pain which peaked then waned slowly, until it vanished suddenly, leaving him completely as though it were never there.

He straightened slowly. Something was wrong.

It was a feeling he constantly had these days. Ever since the headaches had started to plague him, they had grown in strength. At first, just a dull ache that persisted for hours, a thought nagging him from the edges of his mind; now it was short bursts of pain that sometimes lasted for minutes on end, something pressing on him from the edges of his mind, pressing on him to remember.

Remember what?

What was this sudden thought that he was trying to remember something? Something that he should have remembered. Something important. Something – or someone? – that at once both set a craving in him to see and a burning need to dicipline.

A flash of blue hair, a tuft of hair like the top of a pineapple, a wicked smile, mismatched red and blue eyes, the number six burning into his consciousness, dark green and red, a long metal trident.

He seemed to have forgotten something.

Something important. Something... precious?

But what?


End file.
